


More Than the Air I Breathe

by the_queenmaker



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Model, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_queenmaker/pseuds/the_queenmaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Changmin is the wide-eyed rising star behind the camera and Jaejoong is the cynical model in front of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than the Air I Breathe

  


The problem with being a young up-and-comer in an industry notorious for its insularity was that everyone knew everyone--which, on the flip side, also meant everyone know who Changmin wasn't and what he hadn't done.

 

What _should’ve_ happened was that a studio manager _should’ve_ looked over his work with great disdain and hired him with great reluctance. Changmin _should’ve_ slaved away as an assistant for five or so years, with a salary barely enough to afford rent, and during those five years, he _should’ve_ been forging connections and shoving his portfolio in the face of anyone who gave him a second glance, all the while crying himself to sleep every night waiting for the moment when he would be the one holding the camera and calling all the shots.

 

What happened instead was a force named Park Yoochun who wandered into his photo exhibit, looked up and down the gallery once (and Changmin twice) before offering him a job.

 

“Why me?” Changmin had asked suspiciously, eyeing his fitted suit and ridiculously shiny--blinding, even--shoes. “How did you even find this place?”

 

“I like the look of you,” Yoochun answered with a lewd smile, and he never does answer the second question. Changmin had to suppress his urge to recoil, but he wasn’t about to pass up a job that paid him and didn’t force him to go through the unnecessary bullshit of ‘teaching him his place’, so he agreed. Besides, if worse came to worse, he knew people who knew people.

 

Then again, he didn’t quite realize how lucky he was until he arrived at the agreed address and realized that Park Yoochun was the director of COLORS, the smallest of the top studios, but one of the best in the country. When the secretary escorted him to meet the director, Park Yoochun had greeted him like an old friend and put him to work immediately.

 

Changmin quickly grew to like his new job. Since he was a newcomer, he rarely worked with live models, instead starting off in stock photography, taking pictures of products for commercials and the like, all the while expanding his portfolio bit by bit. Despite their initial meeting, Yoochun proved to be a fair and competent boss, and Changmin’s respect for him grew day by day. Yoochun’s eye for talent and willingness to seek them out created for the studio a great network and they were loyal to him—Changmin knew all about that, he was one of them.

 

“I have a new project for you,” Yoochun told him brightly that day with the tone teenage girls usually reserved for their favorite teen idols. “A friend of mine has a cover he needs to shoot, but the photographer is stranded in Iceland. Are you up to shooting a live model?”

 

“Of course,” he replied readily. Changmin had worked with live models before, though not professionally, but Yoochun was always working with one friend or another. Changmin figured he could do fine with amateurs, so long as they could follow direction. He had expected a shy but shapely man or woman, but on the day of the shoot, Kim Jaejoong walked on set and Changmin’s jaw hit the ground.

 

“Jaejoong-hyung!” Yoochun’s bouncing on his heels beside him, waving him over before Changmin can sneak away politely, and then he can only watch helplessly as Kim Jaejoong neared, greeting Yoochun with a manly half-hug.

 

He wasn’t a top model for nothing—it wasn’t just the face, it was the air he gave off, the sense of gravity that drew people’s attention and kept them wound around his little finger without him ever making an effort. It was those innocent eyes coupled with those sinful lips, it was the feminine face coupled with the broad shoulders that drew attention of men and women alike. Changmin had written a paper about the composition of his face for a class once and the professor had never given it back.

 

Right then, Changmin thought of the piles of magazines under his bed, all of which he bought because they featured Kim Jaejoong in some way. This was a model who could make even the most inept photographers look like professionals and this was his first live model shoot and this was going to _make his fucking career_.

 

Changmin felt as though he could faint.

//

(“You’re so cruel, why didn’t you tell me?!” Changmin had hissed at Yoochun later, cheeks aflame.

 

“I wanted to see the look on your face.” Yoochun had whispered back, looking only seconds away from clapping his hands in unrestrained glee.

 

Changmin palmed his face. “How do you even know him?” he asked, watching forlornly as the make-up artist dusted a light layer of powder on Kim Jaejoong’s already-flawless face.

 

“Eh, we went out drinking one time and he threw up on me.” Yoochun shrugged nonchalantly, “and after that we were best friends.”

 

 _I think I love you._ Changmin wants to say.

 

“I want to die,” he says instead, and Yoochun patted him on the head sympathetically like he was some overgrown puppy and told him to get to work.)

//

“How do you want me?”

 

Changmin nearly dropped his camera. “Excuse me?” he squeaked.

 

Jaejoong’s lips quirked and Changmin's eyes follow the motion helplessly. "How do you want me?" he repeated.

 

“Just lay down over there,” Changmin said before realizing how very unhelpful that was and scurrying to help Jaejoong get settled.

 

The concept was 'Dirty Filthy Money', and it was truly conceptual in that nothing in the clothing or the set was dirty or filthy, and that all the 'dirty and filthy' had to emanate from Jaejoong himself. Sometimes, Changmin didn’t know if Yoochun favored him or just wanted him to suffer.

 

"Can you move your arm up higher?" Changmin asked, peering at Jaejoong through the viewfinder.

 

Jaejoong raised one perfectly arched brow.

 

"I-I mean," Changmin cleared his throat, cursing himself. "Raise your arm higher and stretch your head more in my direction. Please."

 

After one or two more flustered attempts at communication, Changmin eventually gave up on trying to verbalizing his thoughts, opting instead to walk onto set to rearrange Jaejoong's arms and legs the way he wanted. Jaejoong's expression was unreadable, but he didn't object and he allowed himself to be maneuvered, so Changmin could only hope that Jaejoong wouldn't complain about his methods too much later on.

 

(Yoochun probably wouldn't fire him for it, but he couldn't take pictures of sunsets and beer bottles forever.)

 

They take a break in the middle so Jaejoong can change and they're going over the frames when Changmin caught sight of him, eyes closed, sitting with his back against the window, the city skyline laid out behind him like a blanket. The fashionable black hooded top he was wearing had been exchanged for a crisp white shirt and he was deep in thought, moving only to take occasional puffs from the cigarette between his fingers.

 

Without thinking, Changmin lifted his camera and snapped a photo. The image would remain in his mind forever, but Changmin did always like having backups.

//

"Jaejoong-sshi!"

 

Changmin didn't usually make it a habit to chase after his models for the sole purpose of thanking them--some of them just liked to leave at the end of a shoot--but at the end of the day, just glancing through the reel, Changmin knew he had to say _something_.

 

"It was an honor working with you," Changmin said, bowing respectfully. I admire other models' pictures because of their photographers, but I admire your pictures because of you as a model, he wanted to add, but no one said things like that. Jaejoong dropped his cigarette to the ground and ground out the stub before grasping Changmin under his chin and lifting it gently so they were seeing eye to eye.

 

"Where did they even find you?" he asked, half in wonder, half in amusement. 

 

“What--“ Changmin started to ask, but then Jaejoong ran his thumb over Changmin's bottom lip and his thoughts abandoned him--the ultimate act of betrayal. "I don't..."

 

“You’re so cute, you know that?” Jaejoong mused, almost to himself. He leaned in closer and Changmin’s mouth went dry. “Here’s a word of advice,” Jaejoong said, not unkindly. “Get out of this industry while you still can. They will suck your soul dry.”

 

Changmin's heart was still racing when the director informed him that they had decided use the photograph he had snapped on a whim, the one he had intended to keep for himself.

//

The magazine released and the blogosphere kicked into high gear, heaping their praise (plus some, Changmin was happy to note) on Kim Jaejoong--typical. Photographers rarely received credit for good photos, but all the same, the buzz was enough to land him a second job, and a third, and then the offers began flooding in. Yoochun preened unnecessarily as the font size crediting his name grew larger with every photo shoot and never asked Changmin to take another picture of a Soju bottle on revolving cake stand again.

 

Changmin became known for his efficiency, using less frames and less time on average than the other photographers. The studios also allow him a good deal of creative freedom, allowing him to experiment with different lights and filters. For a while, he was happy.

 

But as the projects grew bigger, the restrictions became more stifling. Soon, the studios were requesting him to shoot photographs similar to the work he had already done, regardless of whether they fit the concept or the models. He got into his first major tiff with a magazine editor who wanted him to shoot historical clothing with over-saturated photography. She called it an interesting juxtaposition between traditional fashion and modern photography. Changmin called her a fucking idiot.

 

"Changmin-ah," Yoochun rumbled to him through the phone on the third hour of the stand-still. "The editor is our client, you have to do what they want."

 

"But it's not right," Changmin replied angrily. The hanbok the models were wearing was already bright in color, to emphasize that would wash out the models completely and throw off the balance of the picture. He had used the over-saturated technique for a print advertisement that needed action and excitement. The models were just sitting around looking pretty, _it wasn't right._

 

"It's what they want and you're the one who made that style popular," Yoochun said sharply. "Maybe the muted tones will come back in trend in the future, but right now, if they say 'jump', you say 'how high'. Do you understand me?"

 

He had hung up, furious, but had gone through with the photo shoot grinding his teeth. After that, nothing was quite the same. Once he saw how little creativity mattered in the long run, well, what was his motivation? Yoochun tried his best to give him side projects that would allow him to stretch his wings, but the demand for him was too high from a business perspective for Yoochun to ignore.

 

He became a puppet--any monkey with a camera could do what he was doing. They wanted him to work with the light filters, the same poses, the same framing effects that he had created at the start of his career. If he ever wanted to scrap a photo shoot and start over completely, he couldn't even do that. He could only watch as his name continued to appear on photographs he had no feelings for, pictures he had taken that meant nothing to him.

 

Changmin despaired.

 

He was living the dream. His bank account was fatter than ever and he was surrounded by some of the most beautiful people in the world. What did it matter that he had no time from one pointless project to the next to enjoy the fruits of his labor. What did it matter that those beautiful people were all jaded and unhappy and _tired_.

 

_Like him._

 

Months and months of the same passed by before Changmin finally admitted to himself that this wasn’t quite what he wanted.

//

“Ah, you’re not as cute as you used to be.”

 

Changmin looked up just in time to see Kim Jaejoong standing before him, wearing nothing but a white bathrobe. Two years had passed since their first shoot together, and Kim Jaejoong's hair was a little longer and a lot blonder. Changmin's heart fluttered despite himself.

 

“Is that bad?” he managed to ask levelly.

 

Jaejoong cocked his head, but he didn’t say anything else, so Changmin turned back to setting up his camera. His assistants ran around in the background, setting up the lights and rearranging the set.

 

“That picture they used in the ELLE shoot,” Jaejoong said quietly. “I don’t remember posing for it.”

 

"Oh, that." Changmin ducked his head. "You didn't. I...I meant to take it for myself. Sorry."

 

Jaejoong was silent. When he spoke again, his voice was right next to Changmin's ear. "Do you want another chance?”

 

Changmin's face grew hot. "I-I don't think I understand," he said carefully. Jaejoong's fingers slip beneath the lapel of his button-up and caressed gently the skin underneath Changmin's collarbone.

 

Oh. _Oh._ "Okay," he stuttered, because what else could he say to that? 

 

"After the shoot," Jaejoong said, and his smile was full of promise (and really, it's like someone kicked the air out of his lungs, that smile).

//

This was a nude shoot, tastefully done, but nude nonetheless. Changmin was a consummate professional, and his hands didnn’t shake once when he rearranged the sheet to frame Jaejoong's hips and his mind maintained their razor-like focus as he guided Jaejoong's hands to where they needed to be.

 

(Nevermind that his breathing was irregular and his knees were shaking and he was pretty damn sure everyone in the studio could hear his thundering heartbeat.)

 

Jaejoong proved himself the best of the best. His eyes, whether they're trained on something in the distance or on Changmin through the lenses, are dark and full of purpose. He was irresistible force all in himself and Changmin was falling into them, _falling, crashing, burning_.

 

The editors were going to salivate over this photo shoot. Every frame was a work of art.

//

They end up in Jaejoong’s hotel room and they're all over each other even before the door locked behind them, pawing at each other with such frenzy it might have been silly if they weren't both so damned serious about it. Changmin didn't normally do this--go to bed with a near stranger, but he couldn't think properly with Jaejoong biting at his neck like that.

 

"Have you ever thought about getting on my side of the camera?" Jaejoong asked conversationally as he relieved Changmin of his undershirt and lifted his eyebrows appreciatively at the sight before him.

 

"Never," Changmin confessed, swallowing hard as Jaejoong threw off his own shirt and climbed on top of him. He had already seen Jaejoong naked before--in the glossy pages of a magazine and in the flesh just now--but this was different.

 

Jaejoong smirked at him and then he bent down and kissed Changmin thoroughly. His hands wound under Changmin's arms and settle on his back before going to work on his shoulders and arms, rubbing the tension away. Changmin arched, moaning into the kiss, and submitted to Jaejoong's touch, half-dazed, half-mortified.

 

"Ah, you became cute again," Jaejoong said, grinding their torsos together and letting Changmin know that he wasn't the only one affected by their activities. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

 

He made short work of the rest of his clothing before going to work on Changmin's, and when he pulled off Changmin's boxers, his eyebrows lifted even higher. Changmin blushed.

 

"Stop that," he grumbled, certain that the red in his cheeks was embarrassingly evident even through his tan. Without warning, Jaejoong's head suddenly dipped down and he planted a slow kiss right on the tip, and the unexpected touch drew a soft sound from Changmin's lips.

 

"I was going to make you scream for me," Jaejoong said mildly, running his hand up the length of Changmin's cock, making him shiver. "But now, I think, you're going to fuck me instead."

 

His brain must've short-circuited or something because Changmin found that he had absolutely nothing to say to that. He could only watch, unattractively slack-jawed, as Jaejoong slid off the bed in all his naked glory, fell to his knees, and sucked him in slowly, maintaining eye contact even with his plump, red lips wrapped around the base of him. Changmin didn't dare to look away, but then Jaejoong tongue went to work and Changmin was lost.

 

He wasn't a blushing virgin exactly, but he had never quite had anyone blow him with such reckless enthusiasm before either. (Later, Jaejoong would inform him very frankly that no one had tried, made him the very definition of 'blushing virgin'--but that was neither here or now.) It should have been obscene, the wet slopping noises as Jaejoong swirled his tongue around the crown, the sound of a bottle of lube being uncapped and Jaejoong's fingers disappearing behind him as Changmin watched, heart pounding, but it wasn't, it was wonderful, the best feeling in the world, and Changmin couldn't bring himself to feel anything else but elation.

 

“Jaejoong,” he gasped as the other’s throat constricted expertly around him, causing him to pulse violently. "I-I'm not going to last if you--"

 

In response, Jaejoong took him in all at once and hummed low in his throat, and Changmin's protests died in a pathetic gurgle as his tip began to leak and he felt the first rushing of blood in his ears that signified his approaching climax. But just as he was about to tip over, right at the edge of the precipice, Jaejoong's lips slide off of him and the sudden loss of heat left him over-sensitized, making him cry out as he arched off the bed. Three dizzying seconds later, Changmin realized that he hadn't peaked, that he was still hard.

 

“I said you were going to fuck me,” Jaejoong said, prim as ever, save for the sudden hoarseness of his voice. It made Changmin sit up shakily, take Jaejoong in his arms and kiss him nice and proper. He could taste a little of himself in Jaejoong's mouth, but only a little bit. Mostly, he tasted Jaejoong. Underneath the smoke and mint, there was a musk and a flavor entirely unique to him and once Changmin had a taste of him, it was hard to stop.

 

When he pulled back, Jaejoong was smiling at him, not the subtle smolder he save for the camera, but a sweet, almost shy little quirk of the lips that would never make the cut for any of the magazines Jaejoong frequented. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and Changmin stared, ingraining the image in his memory, because certain things were not meant for film.

 

“On your back” Jaejoong said, a little breathless. His cheeks are flushed red and his pupils are blown wide and Changmin realized somewhat belatedly that it was him who reduced Kim Jaejoong to this state and the thought made the throbbing in his loins almost painful.

 

He hurried to obey and Jaejoong slipped a rubber on him before getting on top of him and sinking down slowly on Changmin's aching cock and-- _fuck_ , this was so much better.

 

“Fuck, Jaejoong,” Changmin gasped, his hips snapping up instinctively as Jaejoong ground down, and Jaejoong let out a throaty moan in response. " _Fuck._ "

 

"C'mon," Jaejoong said, glancing down at him. He's smirking again. "Show me you know what to do with that thing."

 

 _I'll show you_ , Changmin thought, and in the blink of an eye, he hooked his arms underneath Jaejoong's knees and flipped them so that suddenly, he was the one on top. Jaejoong had only a second to look surprised before Changmin shifted so that his next thrust would hit right where it would make him--

 

"Holy shit, you _\--ah--_ " The last part of Jaejoong's statement was punctuated by a high-pitched mewl and his legs flailed uselessly, still pinned by Changmin's strong arms. Changmin allowed Jaejoong to adjust, thrusting slowly, sucking marks into the side of Jaejoong's neck as Jaejoong's squirming grew progressively more pushy.

 

"Hurry up," he whined, reaching around and slapping Changmin's backside impatiently. His current position didn't exactly offer him any bargaining power so Jaejoong could only resort to pulling faces that somehow managed to be the most endearingly un-cute expressions Changmin had ever laid eyes on.

 

He was so going to get pictures of those someday.

 

"C'mon," Jaejoong said, wiggling his hips impatiently. "Fuck me, what are you waiting for, I'm--"

 

Changmin pulled out and slammed back in and Jaejoong’s protests turn into a stilted gasp. Then, Changmin began to thrust against him, setting a blistering pace that had Jaejoong sighing contently beneath him. They roll against each other, Jaejoong's eyes becoming bleary and unfocused as he laid there, just taking it, and this is basically the culmination of every jerk-off fantasy he ever had in art school.

 

“Jesus,” Jaejoong breathed, and he sounded so pleased it caused warmth to pool low in Changmin’s belly. The smell of their sex was having an intoxicating effect on him and he wasn't going to last much longer at that pace with Jaejoong clawing at his back like an angry cat.

 

Quickly, Changmin wrapped his fingers around Jaejoong and began pumping him, stroking up and down the sides and fingering the tip, watching as precum leaked out the tip. Jaejoong's eyes sprang open at the touch, pupils blown from pleasure.

 

"W-wait," he started, but then Changmin brushed against the bundle of nerves deep inside of him and they roll shut with a muffled whimper. Changmin timed his thrusts with his strokes, heat exploding behind his eyes as his whole world centered down to him and Jaejoong and the connection between them. His belly tightened and Changmin’s eyes roll to the back of his head, vision whiting out as he came apart.

 

In the end, Changmin screamed for him after all.

//

"Why me?"

 

Changmin’s head was nestled against the juncture where Jaejoong's neck and shoulder met, and the rest of them were wrapped lazily around each other, content in their post-coital bliss. Jaejoong was smoking again, though he was careful not to let the ashes fall on the bedsheets, but he looked every inch a top model again and Changmin couldn't stop his question from slipping out.

 

Jaejoong glanced down at him.

 

"Do you know how many pictures I've taken over the years?" Jaejoong asked, running his fingers affectionately through Changmin's hair. "I've worked with hundreds of different photographers, the best of the best. None of them can make me look the way your pictures do."

 

Changmin suddenly remembered his mentor, an old family friend whose poor memory and impending dementia drove him to point his camera at everyone and everything. _You take the best pictures of the things you love,_ he once told Changmin, hands running over the portrait of the woman whose name he couldn’t remember, who had shared his bed for thirty years as his wife and the mother of his children. _I can’t remember her name, but I know I loved her._

 

Changmin had found it hard to believe then, but now it wasn’t so hard.

 

“Is that it?” he asked softly, afraid of breaking the spell.

 

"That's all I need." Jaejoong said simply, and then tilted Changmin's head up for another kiss.

//

 

  
_Photographs reveal more about the photographer than they do about the thing they’re photographing. The goal is not to change the subject, but for the subject to change the photographer._

 

[ the . end ] 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to **leprixx** for beta. ✧･ﾟ:*＼(◕ヮ◕＼)  
> 


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